“This is even worse than I thought possible,” Ezra lamented.
The thick cloud cover made it difficult to see more than ten or so miles away, but he had a line on two important landmarks of Kentucky Lake. The dam was to the north, socked in under the drifting clouds of black smoke coming in from Paducah. The water had risen so high the giant concrete structure wasn’t even visible. The lake in front of the dam was filled with dead trees, pieces of houses, and numerous escaped barges. A half-mile pile-up seemed to choke off the spillway along the middle of the dam, which made it appear as if the lake was an infinity pool, with water going over the top of the structure.
“That’s why the water’s so high.” He pointed to the dam. “Not only was there ten hours of monsoon over the lake, the water couldn’t go through the dam because of all the detritus.”
“De-what-us?” Butch replied.
“Junk. Garbage. Dead trees. Anything floating in the water that can clog up the spillways.”
Butch didn’t seem worried. “Looks like it’s spilling over the top, though. That means it can’t get any higher down by your house.” Other than not wanting his neighbors to get flooded out, he had no personal interest in what happened in the Happy Cove subdivision. Susan was safely buried up the hill, well out of any potential flooding. His home was gone. Roger’s home was ruined.
“Yeah, there’s that,” Ezra said mechanically, before turning to the right. “What’s it look like down there?”
The Eggner’s Ferry Bridge remained intact to the south, but it probably still had vehicles piled on it. Beyond it, and everywhere on the shore to the east, heavy rain clouds unloaded on the broken forest. Usually when it rained over there, it brought out the green of the trees in contrast to the blue of the water. Now, it was all brown. The greenery had blown into the lake and flowed down to the dam. Toppled trees and a few upright stumps were the only things left. It was almost the same for the twenty miles between the bridge and dam.
Butch pointed east. “The thing hit in that forest, or maybe over by Barkley Lake on the other side of the LBL.” Land Between the Lakes was the wilderness running in a hundred-mile north-south strip between Kentucky and Barkley Lakes. There were no houses and few roads on the five-mile wide recreation area; prior to the meteorite, the place was all trees.
“Let’s check out the other way.” Ezra motioned for him to follow as he walked around the water tower until they faced west. The land in that direction didn’t appear to be on fire or totaled from the impact of a meteorite, though many trees leaned toward the west. They found a good view of Interstate 69, which ran from Paducah in the north to Tennessee about forty miles to the south. The lanes in both directions were packed with vehicles, and none of them were moving. It was a carbon copy of his small county road almost directly below the tower. An irrational feeling of being trapped hit him out of nowhere.
“Butch, you’ve been a real help to me, but I made a promise I intend to keep. I’ve got to get to my daughter out in Yellowstone, and to do it I need to get far from this place as fast as I can. North is not an option, nor is east. It looks like west is nothing but stopped cars, which undoubtedly means trouble. My only option is to go south.” He walked a few paces around the tower and faced the only direction still retaining some semblance of normalcy. Murray was down in that direction, where Grace had gone to college; he had plenty of experience driving the route and was confident he could make it down there again, even if he needed to take horse paths.
“Yellowstone, huh? Mind if I come with?”
Ezra did a fast double-take, looking up to the taller man. “Are you serious? It’s going to be dangerous; I can see that already.”
“Well, you gave me this rifle. I reckon these make us the two toughest hombres out on the highway. I have distant family up in the Northwest, Seattle or Spokane—I can never remember which. Besides, looking at Paducah, I’m positive I don’t want to go see what’s left of my mom’s place. There’s no way anyone is alive around there.”
He studied the guy like he might glare at Grace when he suspected she was going into the city without his permission. “You don’t owe me anything, son. You know that, right?”
“Well, actually I do; you saved my life by pulling me and the others off the road and putting us in your basement.” He snapped his fingers as if solving a riddle. “Thanks, E-Z, you gave me the perfect excuse. I’m going with you until I can pay you back for your kindness. Then, once I do, I’m going to drop you like a bad memory.”
He shook his head, sure he was going to regret being responsible for the young man, but also secretly pleased he didn’t have to go out on the road alone. Safety in numbers was a maxim only a fool would refuse, and the raw strength of the giant of a man would also be a bonus.
“All right, I guess you aren’t terrible to have around. You remind me of—” He caught himself, not yet willing to share the comfort he experienced when around him. While it was true, he reminded him of Grace, Ezra didn’t want it to cloud his judgement. It was also true he’d pulled Butch off the highway pretty much at random; he didn’t want to place too much trust in a stranger. Not yet.
Butch sensed his hesitation. “I remind you of the dude who changes your tires and checks your oil.”
His words caught Ezra by surprise. “No, that’s not it at all. Why would you say that?”
The young man chuckled. “When I came back from my tour in la-la land, I went to work in a garage. There weren’t many opportunities to haul around an automatic machine gun, so I put my other skills to good use by working on cars.”
Ezra couldn’t believe his luck. “I worked for the post office for twenty years. You’ll never guess what I did there.”
“Uh, delivered mail?”
He shook his head. “Nope. I was a mechanic.”
Butch stood up straight and extended a hand. “Well, from one grease monkey to another, I accept the offer to join your party. Let’s get out of Dodge.”
Ezra took it, glad to have a plan.
Chapter 6
Yellowstone National Park, WY
“I forgot my suit back at the police station.”
Grace looked over to Asher. He’d taken off his hat, so his curly locks blew wildly in the breeze created by all the broken windows. His face was hard to read; she assumed he was being silly. “Should I turn the convoy around to go get it?”
He flashed an icy glare. “I’m being serious. I can’t wear this uniform any longer than necessary. What am I going to do once we leave the park, walk around in my boxers?”
She drove with one hand on the wheel, glad to have the wind whipping through the cabin; it meant they were moving in the right direction. Tessa reported she’d picked up some lingering stragglers as she left the tourist village, but the end of the convoy had finally cleared out of Mammoth Hot Springs. All was going well. “Are you really so worried about how you look?”
His mood lightened. “I’m not comfortable being mistaken for a ranger. I mean, I know it helped get some of those people moving, which was great. Once we leave the park, this really will be a Halloween costume. I’ll have no authority at all.”
Grace never thought of herself as an alpha female. Her peers in high school led all the cliques, headed the cheer squad, and ran student council. She liked to lay low and blend in. Her dad was a big part of that mindset; he said it was possible to be a leader without being showy about it. Regardless, in some circumstances, a show of force was necessary. She realized Asher might have been good at geology, and he seemed to be a decent human being, but he left some things to be desired in leadership. “Stick with me, okay? I’ll help walk you through it. Being a ranger is easy, and you’ll be surprised how many people come up to you when you aren’t in the park. Most people love us; in fact, now that I think about it, I’d even say people love us more when we aren’t in the park.”
“I can’t wait. Did you know I actually got spat on back when we were rounding people up?”
She acte
d surprised, though she wasn’t. One out of a thousand visitors treated her like garbage. Usually, it meant that person was having a bad day, or was stressed at being far from home. However, some people were nasty wherever they went.
He continued. “Yeah, I tried to get them back to their cars, and an old man told me I couldn’t make him. Then he spat on me and hobbled away.”
“It sounds like he was senile,” she said seriously.
“I don’t know. Some of the people around him apologized for it…”
Grace half-listened to the rest of his explanation. Motion in her broken side mirror caught her attention; a red sports car was about to pass using the opposite lane. At first, she didn’t think it was a big deal, but at the last second, a black car veered left and blocked him, causing the red car to have to slam on its brakes.
“Jeez, look at that!” she exclaimed.
The red car shot around the side of the black sedan, which put it into the far shoulder. Rather than give in, the black car sped up and got alongside Grace. It put the three vehicles side-by-side on the two-lane highway. She death-gripped the wheel to keep her truck in the proper lane.
The sleek red car shot ahead as if it was in a race, its engine roaring, followed by the black car making almost as much motor noise. As she watched them cruise along the flat section of road, more vehicles broke away from the convoy and pursued the leaders. In seconds, her NPS truck was forced onto the shoulder. “Why are people going insane?” she cried out.
A blue Mustang roared by as part of the charge, and it scraped the side of a giant red pickup truck. White smoke belched out where their tires met, both vehicles veering away from each other. It looked like one of them was going to lose control and run into the ditch next to the road, but they recovered and sped away like it was no big thing.
“You want me to flash my badge at them?” Asher joked.
She wasn’t in the mood for humor. “I was going to pull over in a mile or two anyway, so their rush to get around me is for nothing.”
Grace straddled the right shoulder as the convoy continued to break apart. For several minutes, people made their choices. Most chose to keep up with the speed demons. They went by in pairs and small clumps, each going as fast as they dared. A big RV went by, towing a Jeep behind it. It was followed by a small school bus and some additional passenger cars.
She pulled over and stopped as the vehicles drove off. “I guess they didn’t want to wait for me.” The smell of forest fire smoke was still on the breeze, but they were in between tall hills; the dark plumes were out of sight and therefore out of mind. Was that why everyone shot ahead?
Asher turned to see behind the truck. “Some wanted to wait.” A number of cars had pulled over to the side of the road, keeping at least a small part of the convoy intact. He reached over and chucked her on the shoulder. “See, they know you’re the real deal. They respect your authority.” He held up his watch and touched one of the tiny buttons to take a picture.
“I’d like a copy of that,” she laughed, before hopping on the CB. “Tessa, stay here for five minutes. I’m getting out.”
After checking a couple of extra times to be sure no other vehicles were going to pass and run her over, she pushed open the warped door and climbed out. “Come on, Ranger Asher. I have to check on one more thing before we can leave the park.”
“Where the heck are you going? The fire is still coming.” They’d parked a hundred yards from a bridge over a small river, but she went onto a narrow gravel path, not unlike the one up to the alpine hut. Unlike that, this one went down toward the stream, and then into a steep valley with few trees.
“Remember when I instructed those tourists to take cover in the canyon?”
He hopped out. Ahead, a small group of people were gathered where the trail met the river. “Yeah. It was Gardner Canyon, I think.”
“Correct. We’re here, and that’s them. I have to let ’em know they can leave.”
Kentucky
On the way back to Happy Cove, Ezra managed to start one of the cars on the highway and listen to the radio. None of the frequencies had a signal. There were likely no intact televisions in the area, nor was there any power, even if he did locate one. After studying the surrounding countryside from the water tower and talking to survivors in the fire station, Ezra figured he knew enough to leave the relative protection of his neighborhood and start out on his journey to Grace. If he could get down south to Murray, it might be possible to get a rental car.
“You sure you want to come with me?” he asked Butch for the second time. Walking twenty miles to Murray wasn’t going to be difficult, but it would be boring, and perhaps a little dangerous. He didn’t want the kid going into it halfhearted.
“It’ll be easy, E-Z,” he said, laughing at his wordplay.
The pair left the county road and turned onto Happy Jack Avenue. “Well, I hate doing it, but if we’re going out on the road, we need gear. If you see anything we can use while we’re walking back to the house, grab it. We need backpacks, water bottles, and anything survival-oriented. A tent would be nice, in case this takes longer than we plan, but I doubt we’re going to find one lying around.”
He could have outfitted both of them with packs, tents, and every manner of outdoor survival gear, had it not all burned up in his living room. The only things he had left were the two rifles, a carton of ammo, and the small first aid kit. Unfortunately, the kit was in the basement of Roger’s house, and it had been used and abused the previous night by the other survivors. At the time, all he cared about was Susan, so he didn’t complain when it was picked clean. Now he cared.
“Let’s take fifteen minutes to search around,” he told Butch. “If you find anything useful in a yard, try asking the owners if you can take it. We don’t want any confusion about what we’re doing.” With everything blown around the street, almost nothing would be where it belonged.
“Got it!” the other man acknowledged as he trotted off.
Ezra put his hands on his hips as he glanced around at what was left of his neighbor’s homes, then steered clear of their properties entirely. He did most of his scrounging in the common ground behind the rows of houses to ensure he wasn’t trespassing or stealing. It was grisly, soggy business, seeing people’s lives all over the forest.
By the time they were ready to go, he still felt grossly unprepared. They’d both found small backpacks that probably once belonged to grade-school children. His was light blue with numerous pandas on it. Butch’s pack hung over his left shoulder; it had a giant sports logo plastered on the red material. He’d found some odds and ends, such as cotton T-shirts, an unopened toothbrush, and a whole container of AA batteries. Butch found a butane lighter, a small axe, and a fold-up shovel. They shoved in the finds with the big boxes of ammo he’d salvaged.
“I guess I’m the latrine digger,” Butch joked. “I’ve got lots of experience already.”
The last thing they took was the tarp from over Roger’s stairwell. Most of the people had moved out; the rising waters sent them running. If they couldn’t find a tent, the big tarp would give them some protection from the elements.
When they had it secured in his pack, he sloshed through the flood waters, then stopped in the street in front of Roger’s place. “Last chance to bail on me. I’m not coming back.” Ezra looked up the hill to Susan’s resting spot. “Not until I have my daughter.”
Butch motioned for him to proceed. “I have even less attachment here than you do. My mom’s gone. I can’t go back to see what’s left. Lead the way.”
They walked slowly down Happy Cove Avenue, noting the destruction of each house along the way. Some of the owners were good friends; a few he didn’t care if he never saw again. He waved to the survivors and briefly told them where he was headed, but he wasn’t in the mood for long discussions, so he kept moving. When he turned the corner onto the road up the hill, he again saw a familiar pink.
“Good Lord, give me the strength.”
>
Isla Socorro
His friend in the “federal family” was bought and paid for by Tikkanen Kinetic Mining. Secretary of Homeland Security Stricker had been in his office the day before, but he had no idea where he’d gone from there. Petteri had warned him to get somewhere safe, and he hoped the guy took his advice; he needed him alive, so he’d still have a finger on the pulse of the government response.
Fortunately, Mr. Stricker picked up on the first ring. “Hello, Mr. Tikkanen.”
“Ah, it’s good to hear your voice,” he cooed. “I was worried about you last night.”
“Your secretary told me to get into a shelter. I appreciate it.”
Petteri was elated. Dorothy had called him last night to be on record as having tried to warn someone in authority. He didn’t actually count on actually saving the man.
“Were you in Texas when the accident occurred?” He referred to the meteorite impact as an accident on the advice of his high-priced lawyers.
“Yes. I stayed near your launch facility and dined with them in the evening. When I got the message, my security detail got me to a nuclear fallout shelter. It’s a good thing, too. One of the rocks came down near us.”
Petteri cringed without saying a word. If a rock came down in the southern tip of Texas, it meant the spread was much larger than he’d anticipated. Dorothy was out trying to get him hard data on where the pieces had come down. He wished he’d gotten it before his call with Stricker, so he wasn’t taken by surprise.
“I’m glad you came out okay,” he said in a cheery tone. “Tell me, what can I do to help you clean up this mess?”
There was silence on the line. “Now, look, I appreciate all you’ve done for me, but I don’t think we can continue our, uh, partnership. We’re in the middle of a serious crisis.” Stricker spoke with surprising aggression, a trait he’d never shown in person. “It might be best if you let us do our job. Then, after the country is getting back to normal, we can talk about what you need.”
Impact (Book 2): Bounce Page 5